


aperture

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Escape, F/M, Guilt, Imperial Officer Qi'ra, Kissing, Qi'ra Escapes Corellia, Reunions, Ultimatums
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-13 05:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16011674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: She recalled the last time they were together, the way she’d pulled him into an alcove and kissed the arrogance from his lips, arrogance he’d parted with willingly. Happily. Now, she wasn’t so sure what he would do, if he would even respond. He seemed half a statue to her, a piece to be admired from a polite distance.





	aperture

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liesmyth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmyth/gifts).



Beckett had said that he needed someone smart for this gig and Qi’ra was beginning to see what he meant. As she looked around the wide expanse of the room, all gold and beauty and rich taste beyond the telling of it, she was both surprised and not that he’d managed to insinuate himself here. She’d learned quickly that Beckett was resourceful, but this was more than that. Even ensconced in the Imperial Academy, she knew who Dryden Vos was. Anyone who had even half a mind to join the upper echelons of the Imperial chain of command knew him. He was dangerous. Not the sort of person you dealt with willingly unless you had a certain something about you.

Apparently Beckett had it, whatever it was. Qi’ra didn’t. She wanted to flee as soon as she’d stepped into the room.

What would her superiors think, she wondered, if they realized she’d deserted and somehow still ended up right in the heart of one of the galaxy’s most dangerous criminal’s personal pleasure yachts? The part of her that most deeply hated herself also considered the very real possibility that she could leverage this for clemency. She’d agreed to Beckett’s terms on a whim. That glimmer of hope that she’d be able to get back to Han so much more quickly than she’d expected was too much of a hook and she regretted it now. She’d spent three years thinking every step of her plan through and she’d imploded it all because he’d smooth-talked her. Like she didn’t come from Corellia. Like she didn’t know every silver-tongued trick in the book.

But credits were so much easier to amass than power and he knew that. And she, too, knew that credits could be transformed, almost like magic, into just that thing she coveted so much.

Power. The power to get back to Han and free him from the world from which he’d helped liberate her.

She wished she’d never caught on to what Beckett was doing back on Mimban. Wished she’d never been there at all. It wasn’t her theater, Mimban. She’d just been sent there on a special request from Commander Filten—do some recon, she’d told Qi’ra, I want to know how thoroughly they’re bungling it up over there—under the pretext of delivering invaluable communiqués to the leadership there. Too bad a bunch of swindlers decided they wanted to steal a ship right from under the Empire’s supposed best and brightest.

Cheeky bastards.

And now here she was on the damned _First Light_ itself and somewhere aboard Dryden Vos was doing whatever he did to keep his own Empire in miniature afloat. More than that really. Even Qi’ra was impressed by how luxurious the surroundings were. How far his reach extended based only on the people she saw here.

There were even a few highly ranked Imperial officers afoot; she committed those faces to memory along with their rank squares. That would be useful if she ever made it back to her post. It might buy her life back if Beckett failed. She turned away from those Imperials, tried to slouch, remembered as much of her rough upbringing as she was willing to regurgitate from memory just to make sure she didn’t look like one of them. She might have changed into something a little more roguish than her officer’s uniform, an old outfit of Val’s that fit poorly on her slighter frame and only made her seem more rakish than it otherwise might have, but there would have been no hiding the precise way she carried her shoulders.

Beckett had told her to keep her eyes down and she had half a mind to do just that. There was nothing here that wasn’t immediately designed to cause her trouble. The people, the food, the drink. No doubt Dryden anticipated the downfall of at least a few party goers to other people, to food, to drink and waited for the right moment. There were probably a dozen camdroids or more hidden about the room collecting fodder to be used as blackmail. And that didn’t include the individuals who were likely in his employ who roved the room searching for opportunities to make Crimson Dawn just that slightest bit more profitable.

Qi’ra hated people like this, loathed them, wished to rid the galaxy of them. Half the reason she was able to stomach remaining with the Empire was because there were people within it who also despised these people. It had been a surprise for her to learn that once she was free of the Control Zone and something she’d grappled with for a long time. They might have been few and far between, those individuals, but they gave her hope.

Hope was a dangerous, stupid thing. She’d never quite outgrown that.

As she turned away from yet another glittering attendee, she caught sight of the view out a nearby window. Drawn toward it, she pressed her fingers against the cool glass. It was a lovely world that this yacht cut through and Qi’ra allowed herself a moment in which to admire it. The simplicity soothed her, so different from the raucous laughter that surrounded her, the scents of various perfumes, floral and spicy and musky alike, battling to be the most attention grabbing, the bright lights that set everything twinkling.

“Not used to these sorts of parties, are you?” a voice said, so familiar that Qi’ra thought she was imagining it. It could only belong to one man, such a dear voice, and had long ago been burned into her memory. _Run_ , she heard. _Get out of here._

She spun on her heels. “Han,” and even though she knew it had to be him, she still gasped as she caught sight of him for the first time in three years. Three long, horrible, guilt-ridden years. She laughed, startled. “What are you doing here?” Only belatedly did she allow herself to catalog him in his entirety. “You look incredible!”

He flashed a brilliant grin at her and ducked his head, hand wrapping around the back of his neck. A red mark marred his wrist, but she didn’t get a close enough look at it to see what it was. He’d cut his hair somewhere along the way and had taken to slicking it back in a severe side part. It made him look handsome, sophisticated. Like something out of an old-fashioned holonovel. The suit he wore didn’t undermine the effect either. Something like envy squirmed inside of her. For a moment, it felt like she was the one who’d been left behind.

But no, that wasn’t fair. Not at all. However he’d gotten out, it took a lot of work. And if the coldness in his gaze was any indication, the price was high.

“Thanks,” he said after a moment, dry and deprecating, full of a self-awareness that sat oddly on his shoulders. It used to be, he believed in himself to a staggering, comical degree. Once upon a time, he’d have taken such a flattering comment and accepted it at face value, maybe try to turn it even more to his advantage. More often than not, it had ended with him catching a punch on the jaw. That was Corellia for you though. Now, he looked as though he hadn’t been roughed up even once in his life. No, he looked exactly like he belonged here.

Here.

Not with Qi’ra.

She recalled the last time they were together, the way she’d pulled him into an alcove and kissed the arrogance from his lips, arrogance he’d parted with willingly. Happily. Now, she wasn’t so sure what he would do, if he would even respond. He seemed half a statue to her, a piece to be admired from a polite distance.

“You’re looking well yourself,” he added, as though only just realizing the conversation was stagnating. In slow, painful increments, a warmth stoked itself in his eyes and his blinding smile softened into something realer. A pang of sadness rose inside of her at his struggle. He never used to be so closed off, sometimes to Qi’ra’s chagrin. “The outside world suits you.”

The urge to reach up and brush the hair behind her ears was almost too strong to curb. She wasn’t used to wearing it down anymore and she wasn’t sure she liked it. Having Han look at her like this made her uncomfortable. “You, too.”

“Oh,” he said, laughing lightly, “I never made it outside. This is all just a very grand Control Zone.” He made it sound like it was nothing, nothing at all. Lifting his hand, he brushed his knuckles across the arch of Qi’ra’s cheek. She willed herself not to lean into it; this didn’t seem like the time and it certainly wasn’t the place. But there was nothing she wanted to do more than to take his hand in hers, draw it to her mouth, and relearn the taste of him all over again. “There are fewer scuffles though, I can admit that.”

Three years. She couldn’t believe she’d managed this long without him, that she’d decided a long, arduous con was the correct answer to this problem. It was his life she’d wasted, not her own.

Before she could do something foolish, he tilted his head, considering. “You went Imperial,” he said. Then, his fingers pushed back the thick, curling strands of hair that so troubled her. “I can always tell when someone gets a regulation hair cut they’re trying to hide.” He leaned in, close enough to kiss if Qi’ra wanted him to. And she did. Want him to. Unfortunately, he did not. “Don’t worry. It’s my job to know.”

She shook her head. “I’m not worried,” she replied, baffled. She didn’t fear him and he’d always been good at reading people. It didn’t surprise her in the slightest that he could tell. She only hoped she wasn’t quite as obvious to everyone around them. The last thing she wanted was for the most favored of Dryden Vos’s friends to know she was here.

“You should stay away from Major Wiedeth then. He has a bad habit of sticking his nose in places it doesn’t belong. And he likes to brag. Your secret will be out as quick as—well. You get the idea.” Han pointed him out with a discrete jerk of his chin. Qi’ra only turned the minutest amount, just enough to see a black-clad Imperial across the room. She hadn’t noticed him in her first scan of the space. Badly done on her part. Even with only that brief glimpse of him, she could practically see him scenting the air for blood.

He was the worst sort of Imperial. Hated by all and promoted anyway because they’re so very useful to those in the upper echelons. He didn’t yet realize there was a ceiling to his success. He would one day.

Placing his hand on her shoulder, Han guided her toward the exit. She wanted to argue. Beckett wouldn’t be happy if she disappeared, but on the other hand, this had always been her goal. And Beckett hadn’t wanted her along to begin with. They could part ways now and Beckett could salvage this operation on his own. She might have given him her word, but words were meaningless.

“Han, we could leave now. Right now. I came here for you. We don’t have to—”

Han’s eyes widened and he pushed her through the hallways with even more urgency. “You said you didn’t know I was here.”

“Not _here_ here, no. But Beckett promised me—”

“Beckett? Tobias Beckett? You’re working with him?” Han cursed under his breath in a language Qi’ra didn’t recognize. “How in the hell did that happen?” Then he lifted his hand, palm out, and Qi’ra couldn’t help but admire the smoothness of his palm. He’d changed so much in three years. And Qi’ra again felt left behind. She wanted to know everything and she was afraid to ask. “I don’t want to know, do I?”

Qi’ra winced. “It wasn’t my finest moment.” But she didn’t feel guilty, no. She felt no real loyalty to the Empire, not in the way she was loyal to Han. She’d gladly risk imprisonment, every charge they’d want to drop on her, even if it ended with a firing squad, if it meant reuniting with him first. “But I’m willing to stand by my actions.”

A smile, almost amused, definitely patronizing, flitted across Han’s lips and disappeared again. “I wouldn’t ask you to do that. This isn’t—” He sighed and brushed his hand across his forehead, the other coming to rest on his trim, black-clad waist. She wanted to cover his hand with hers. She wanted to pull him close. Out here, they were alone and she wanted so much. “This isn’t that kind of story, sweetheart. Whatever it is you and Beckett are doing, you deny as much as you have to in order to get out of here with Dryden’s good graces intact. There’s no point worrying about me.”

Qi’ra flinched as a loud thudding sound issued from within the room behind them. Even Han looked a little sick. He said, “It was the coaxium, wasn’t it?”

She hated confirming it for him. “We lost the shipment. Marauders.”

“Enfys Nest?”

Qi’ra could only nod.

“Kriff. Okay. I should… I don’t even know what I should do.” He glanced back at the closed door. As though waiting for this moment, another scream issued from inside. It was high and shrill, definitely the sort of scream that let you know a party was through. The Han she knew would have had a better idea in an instant. “But you should go. Maybe Beckett didn’t have a chance to mention you.”

Qi’ra’s jaw tensed and she shook her head. Her hair fell into her eyes again and this time she brushed it aside, impatient and unhappy. “I won’t leave you again.”

“Remember when we were trying to leave the Control Zone? You were worried about Crimson Dawn or the Hutt Cartel and I told you nothing would happen to us? Yeah, well. Something will definitely happen to us if I go with you now. We’ll be hunted down. I got myself into this mess here.” He pointed at the door. “What you’re hearing in there? It’s not Beckett dying or dead. He’ll just wish he was by the time Dryden’s done with him. You’re not going to be a part of that.”

“Yes, I am.” She shoved past him, intent on getting back into that room. Whatever had happened to Beckett, Qi’ra would take her share of it; she’d throw herself at Dryden Vos’s feet and let him take out on her whatever he had to. She might be able to talk him around, but she didn’t know that for sure and the fear in Han’s eyes suggested he didn’t believe she could do it either. “I’m not bluffing, Han. You go with me now or I go back in there.”

His hand wrapped around her wrist, held tightly enough that her bones ground together. “Oh, yeah, and what if I stop you?”

“You can’t.” She’d been trained in hand-to-hand combat by Imperials. She could take Han down if she had to. Incapacitate him long enough to make sure he didn’t get his way.

Han bounced on the balls of his feet, his attention turning from her face to the door and back again. He bit his lip and Qi’ra thought this might have been the first time she’d ever seen him this indecisive about anything. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Yes, I do.” She reached up and caressed his face; his cheeks were already beginning to prickle with stubble. “Han, I do know. I just don’t care. Come with me. We’ll work it out. I promise.” She willed him to agree with her. It would be pointless to throw her life away on this, but she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him behind again. And she wouldn’t. He may have been a stubborn man, but she could be his equal on that score.

“So we’ll be on the run from Crimson Dawn and the Empire. Is there anywhere in the galaxy we’ll be safe from both of them?”

Frankly, Qi’ra didn’t care. Lifting herself onto her toes, she pressed a kiss to his lips, savored the now unfamiliar taste of him. His hand pressed against her lower back. The other curled around her shoulder. She heard a broken hum as he pulled away. “Okay,” he said, tears in his eyes, ones quickly blinked away. That never used to happen either. And then he went cold again and she thought she could live with it. She’d find the warmth inside of him again one day. They just had to get out of here. “Okay.”

She took hold of his hand and dragged him toward the turbolift, almost breaking into a run.

It reminded her so much of those last, precious moments they shared in the Control Zone. This time, she knew better than to feel elation.

And this time, she could only hope she’d make it right.


End file.
